


i saw her standing there

by Kit_Kat21



Series: Beatles Tribute [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lyanna is Not a Stark, Pre-Jon/Sansa, Teenager Jon, Teenager Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: But Sansa Stark doesn’t seem to be having that problem. Even at fourteen and in the throes of puberty, Sansa Stark is beautiful.Jon does his best to not think of that too often. After all, she’s fourteen and Robb’s younger sister. Sixteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to think that about their best mates’ younger sisters.





	i saw her standing there

**Author's Note:**

> long before the events of _baby, it's you_.

…

Jon takes one more look at his reflection in the mirror his mum has hanging in the hallway – “to make spaces seem bigger”, Lyanna says – before he knocks on the closed bedroom door.

“Mum?” He then says.

“Just you?” Lyanna Snow answers from the other side.

“Just me,” he promises.

The door is unlocked within a second and his mum opens it just a crack for Jon to be able to slip into the bedroom. He immediately closes the door behind him before she can tell him to do so and he then turns to look at his mum. He can’t help, but smile. His mum may be a woman in her early forties, but right now, she’s buzzing with a nervous energy Jon assumes all brides have on their wedding day, no matter their age.

“Wow,” Jon says once he gets his first good look at her.

“Yeah?” Lyanna asks, unable to keep from smiling. “I feel silly for wearing white.”

“I thought you kept calling it cream,” he reminds her and Lyanna rolls her eyes, turning back towards the full-length mirror, beckoning him to join her. “Not bad,” he notes as he stands at his mum’s side and she slips her arm through his and he looks at their reflection.

He is going to be walking her down the aisle in little bit and he supposes she’s practicing.

Jon and his soon-to-be-stepfather – though is he a stepfather if Jon’s never had an official dad? – are wearing the same suits that day, having gone, getting fitted for them two months earlier: black with white shirts and thin black ties.

“Not bad?” Lyanna looks to her son with a raised eyebrow and Jon gives her a grin.

“You look beautiful, mum,” he then tells her sincerely.

Lyanna leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Well, you shaved, but you didn’t cut your hair. I thought you were going to cut your hair.”

“You wanted me to cut my hair. I never agreed to that,” Jon points out to her. He then looks at his reflection. He’s slicked it back from his face, at least, instead of letting it hang all in his face. He knows if he had done that, Lyanna would have gotten her scissors and try to cut it herself.

“How’s Arthur?” Lyanna asks, deciding that pestering her son about his hair, which she feels is getting too long, is not a battle she wants on her wedding day.

Jon smiles at the question. “About as nervous as you are.”

“I’m not nervous, Jon Snow,” Lyanna immediately replies with a frown. “This is me being hungry. I haven’t been able to eat all day.”

“Do you want me to get you something?” Jon readily offers. “The caterers are setting up already. I can easily bring you something.”

Lyanna smiles at her son. “Mini quiche?”

Jon grins. “You got it. I’ll be right back.”

“Is Catelyn Stark here?” Lyanna then asks.

“They just got here. Do you want her?”

“There’s a loose bead and I need her sewing skills,” Lyanna says, fingering one of the small beads that cover her entire bodice.

“One quiche and one Mrs. Stark,” Jon promises and before he can step away, Lyanna pulls him into a hug and Jon hugs her tightly in return.

“I love you so much, Jon,” Lyanna tells him quietly. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Jon is sixteen and, in his opinion, sixteen is too old to be crying, but he’s not too old to hug his mum tightly in return and press his nose to her shoulder, closing his eyes until the urge passes.

“I love you, too, mum,” he tells her quietly in return.

He wants to tell her so many other things. He wants to tell her thank you for everything she’s ever done for him; missing so many things so she could work as much as she could so she’d be able to provide Jon with as much as possible. He wants to tell her that she’s the best mum in the world. He wants to tell her that he’s so happy that she’s met someone good, who loves her and him, both, and treats them both well, because in Jon’s opinion, no one deserves their happiness more than his mum.

But all of those words clump in his throat before he can even try to get them out.

Lyanna sniffles and hugs him tighter as if maybe she knows everything he’s thinking.

The other guests have been arriving for the past half hour, enjoying appetizers and music in the backyard where the short ceremony will be taking place – fellow officers and detectives from Arthur’s police station, people who work with Lyanna at both of her jobs, and the Stark family.

Jon catches one of the caterers as they pass with the quiches and grabs two to take back and then continues on his way to find Catelyn Stark.

He sees Ned, Robb and Sansa stark first – standing together and speaking with a friend of Arthur’s. The men and Robb are all wearing suits and Sansa is wearing a pink dress. In the back of his mind, Jon notes – with her long red hair, down and wavy and the pink dress – that his best mate’s younger sister is looking beautiful this afternoon.

Not that that’s much of a surprise to him.

It’s something he’s never understood. Sansa is fourteen and Jon remembers being fourteen. Hell, it’s only been two years earlier and Jon remembers that fourteen is not a kind age to anyone. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and he’s glad to be, finally, on the tail end of puberty after living through thirteen, fourteen and fifteen.

But Sansa Stark doesn’t seem to be having that problem. Even at fourteen and in the throes of puberty, Sansa Stark is beautiful.

Jon does his best to not think of that too often. After all, she’s fourteen and Robb’s younger sister. Sixteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to think that about their best mates’ younger sisters.

“There he is,” Ned smiles as Jon approaches. “How’s your mum?” He asks, clapping a hand onto Jon’s shoulder.

“Hungry,” Jon holds up the quiches. “Is Mrs. Stark somewhere?”

“Arya and Rickon have already gotten dirty and mum’s taken them in the bathroom to clean them up and try to not kill them and she’s taken Bran with her, too, just in case he’s even thinking of getting dirty,” Robb answers with a grin.

“Is everything alright?” Ned asks when he sees Jon’s brow wrinkled at that.

“Yeah… mum’s got a loose bead on her dress and was hoping Mrs. Stark could sew it again.”

“Sansa can do it,” Robb suggests immediately.

Jon’s eyes look to Sansa and she looks to her brother, her mouth open as if to protest, but she then looks to Jon.

She gives him a small smile. “I can help, if you’d like,” she tells him.

Jon realizes he should have asked Sansa in the first place. She’s always sewing and making her own clothes and Jon doesn’t know anything about clothes, but he knows that Sansa certainly had a talent in doing so. He finds himself wondering if she’s made the dress she’s wearing today. It wouldn’t surprise him. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise him if Sansa had been able to make a wedding dress for his mum to wear today.

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jon smiles at her and Sansa smiles as well, passing her glass off to her dad before following Jon back towards the house.

“Thank you for this,” he says again as they walk side-by-side down the hallway towards his mum’s bedroom and it’s rare that he finds himself alone with Sansa without any other Stark around. He actually can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with her. “She’s trying not to act like it, but I know she’s nervous for today and just wants everything to be perfect.”

“Of course, she is and of course she does,” Sansa tells him with a small smile playing across her lips. “It’s her wedding day.”

Jon smiles a little at her. “And I just want everything to be perfect for her, too.”

“Of course, you do,” Sansa smiles at him and Jon smiles a little wider now. “That’s just who you are, Jon.”

“Is it?” Jon asks, looking at her; curious as to how this girl views him because he has no idea.

He never would have thought that Sansa has any view of him at all. He just assumed that Sansa doesn’t think of him much at all because – unless he’s thinking of how beautiful she is – he doesn’t think much of her at all either.

Sansa gives him a small smile and Jon swears that her cheeks are a bit pinker now though he tells himself that he’s just imagining it. Sansa Stark doesn’t blush and if she does, it’s not anytime she’s around him. And that’s good because it’s not like he wants her blushing around him. She’s Robb’s younger sister; his fourteen-year-old sister. These are complications Jon isn’t looking to have in his life – no matter how beautiful this girl seems to be.

“You care about everyone in your life, Jon, with everything you have,” Sansa tells him. “I’ve noticed it. And when you care about a person, they feel all the more special because of it.”

They stop outside the bedroom door, but instead of knocking, Jon turns to face her.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he tells her sincerely. He wants to ask when she’s noticed that about him, but he doesn’t. Does this mean that Sansa has seen things about him like he has about her and how long has she seen these things?

“You’re welcome,” she replies with a faint smile across her lips.

That smile slams into his chest in a way he’s never expected any smile to; especially a smile from Sansa Stark.

This time, Jon knows he’s not imagining it when he sees the blush across Sansa’s cheeks, but he still pretends he doesn’t see it as he turns towards the door and knocks, eager to get back in his mum’s company so he’s not alone with Sansa any longer.

…


End file.
